I know you are, but who am I?
by intriguelover
Summary: After seven years of hatred, Draco and Harry feel they know enough about each other to get out of the mess they've switched themselves into... Ginny Weasley just might prove them wrong.
1. Default Chapter

"You call her that again and I swear I'll..." Ron's lunge was cut off by Harry's restraining grip on his shoulders.  
"What Weasley, you'll sick that little sister of yours on me? Why bother, she's already here..." Draco walked arrogantly away, his laughter ringing throughout the corridor.  
"Don't listen to him Ron, we all know he's a worthless ferret," Harry spat. His own face contorted in anger.  
"Yeah well. Love to turn that slug into a black hole of twitching agony all the same." Ron shrugged off Harry's relaxing hold. "Where's Ginny?"  
"Charms I'd imagine," said Hermione, completely unperturbed by Malfoy's jibes. "Off I go then, arithmancy."  
"Sure you don't want one of us to come with you?" Ron seemed eager for the opportunity.  
"Don't be ridiculous Ron, you have potions." She called back, already halfway down the hall.  
  
"Come on Ron," said Harry. "We're already late." He grabbed Ron's arm and yanked him in the direction of the dungeons.  
  
When the two had fallen out of sight, Ginny Weasley emerged from behind the statue of Odin the Odious and after shooting a furtive glance in both directions, took the long way to charms.  
  
It happened like an everyday occurrence would. Dramatic, but seemingly unworthy of notice.  
"Potter, Weasley, you're late." Snape snapped as they entered the room looking hurried. "It seems as though we've run out of partners for the both of you."  
In second year, Harry or Ron would've suggested to Snape that they partner each other, but in the seventh... not worth the effort really.  
  
"Weasley, you take Mr. Zabini. Potter, you're with Malfoy." Snape turned heel and walked briskly to his desk, flicking his wand as he went, which proceeded to spill out neatly written instructions for today's potion.  
Zabini and Draco got straight to work, Ron and Harry looking at them with an expression quite similar to nausea.  
"Well alright then," Snape snapped. "Get to work. We haven't got all day."  
  
Harry glared at Snape and began to measure out the lipis wings, wings so small that they looked a lot more like dust than anything capable of flight. Soon the loose wings were floating all over the room, and when Neville dropped his vial of them, they began to obscure vision.  
Draco looked contemptuously through the wings at Harry, as though it's been Harry who dropped his ingredients.  
"Come on Potter. This isn't an expressive art class. No blundering aloud."  
Harry scowled and continued his work.  
The snide comments continued throughout the class, Draco trying an entirely new tactic. Not insulting Harry's parents, or Weasley's family or Hermione's blood. He simply jibed at Harry's incompetence when it came to simple tasks in potions.  
Harry was getting irritated.  
"Gently Potter, we're chopping anole tongues here, not fending off the littlest Weasley."  
Harry upended the cauldron, over the bottom of both his and Draco's robes.  
Draco took this rather well, all things considered.  
He calmly lifted up the vials of ingredients, and dumped them on Harry's head.  
At this point, things got rather confusing.  
The lipis wings obscured Harry and Draco from view, and as they both drew their wands and began to furiously hex one another, it occurred to Ron (on the other side of the room) that this was probably a good thing.  
Snape had, of course, noticed the disturbance, and when he finally managed to clean up the lipis wing cloud, he was quite furious indeed.  
Any onlooker who wasn't paying attention to Snape (A/N: such an onlooker does not exist) would have been slightly perplexed, for at the exact moment when the lipis wings were cleared, an expression of shock appeared on Draco's face which was soon mirrored by Harry's. After a moment's time, both looks vanished.  
"I've had quite enough of this nonsense." Snape was visibly seething. He brushed the rest of the class off. "Dismissed. You two," he hissed. "Clean this up. Detention for the rest of the week."  
Harry looked outraged. Draco looked unsurprised. Snape left the room.  
"Okay," said Harry with Draco's mouth. "What is going on?" 


	2. something different

"How could this have happened?" Harry said, stunned. He sat down hard on a desktop.

"How? I'll tell you how. You just had to be the famous scarhead didn't you? Can't let anyone have the last laugh." Said Draco angrily, pacing.

"Regardless of how it happened we have to fix it Malfoy. This is just..."

"Bloody inconvenient? Insane? A nightmare?"

"You could say that."

"And how do you propose we get out of it Potter?"

"Dumbledore. We go to Dumbledore."

"No."

"Why not?"

"No one can know. My father cannot know."

"But Dumbledore wouldn't..."

"Why? Because he's your savior?"

Harry, seeing no reason why Draco, imparticular, should trust Dumbledore, sighed. "Fine. We figure it out ourselves."

"Think you can be Draco Malfoy for a few days?"

"Think you can be Harry Potter for a few days?"

"Absolutely. Piece of cake."

"Likewise." Without giving Harry a chance to elaborate, Draco left the room, his dark bangs waving about uncomfortably as he walked.

"Wait." Harry went up to Draco. "You need to know where the common room is. The password."

"Don't worry," said Draco. "I'm now a member of the dream team." Draco smirked.

"Well then at least tell me the new slytherin password."

"It's green nasp." Said Draco warily. Harry nodded shortly, and plodded off to the infirmary, fighting nausea.

"Funny thing that," said Madam Pomfrey, giving Draco a teaspoon of something bright pink and opaque. "You're the second boy today to come in here suffering from a stomach upset. I'd better ask the good professor to make me more of this."

"Who was the other boy?" asked Draco offhand, pleasantly surprised by the banana like taste in his mouth.

"Oh, a slytherin," Madam Pomfrey bustled over to her cabinet. "David, Dravan, Draco something or other."

"You don't know Draco Malfoy?" Draco asked, both surprised and offended.

"Dear, there are over 400 students who attend this school. How could I possibly know them all?"

Draco had to admit that she had a point, but made a mental note to visit the infirmary more often when he got his body back.

Draco had skipped his classes for the day. Partly because he didn't quite feel up to playing the saint yet, and partly because Harry had not given Draco information regarding his class schedule. And then suddenly Draco was hit by a wave of nausea, and had a perfectly legitimate excuse for being absent.

He practically skipped to the Gryffindor common room, not because he was particularly looking forward to going there, but because he was looking forward to finding out things about Harry to exploit.

He came out sorely disappointed. Harry was just too good to have any visible dirt. There weren't even the usual tricks, like interesting boxers to hang somewhere, or some piece of nicked girls' clothing to reveal to the world. The only interesting things in Harry's chest were his invisibility cloak (too obvious to steal), his odd pair of snitch and broomstick socks, a photo album of Harry's parents (which Draco enjoyed looking at), and a random piece of parchment that wrote nasty things to Draco when he tapped it with his wand. Harry didn't even have a journal.

And so Draco flopped down on Harry's bed for awhile and amused himself looking through Harry's photo album.

He flipped slowly through the pages of Harry's smiling mother and father. Their wedding and their friends. And after awhile he felt himself warming up to these people he had never met. The book was full of people smiling so warmly that Draco felt enveloped by their happiness. Their genuine smiles, so different from the Malfoy self satisfied smirk, was enough to tilt the corners of Draco's mouth. And as he closed the last page he began to feel overwhelming sympathy for Harry. Poor bloke lost such wonderful parents. Not that Draco would ever excuse him for being a toy soldier style hero. But perhaps he needed to be. It must be difficult trying to prove yourself to parents you've never met.


End file.
